


Exiled

by TheAuthorGod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alien Castiel, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Space, Immortals in Space, M/M, Pilot Dean, Soulmates, Space Battles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4208586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuthorGod/pseuds/TheAuthorGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Hiatus<br/>Dean finally gets to go on a mission; his first mission is a total screw-up, though.  He almost gets kicked out of the Space Navy for it; but is it really a screw-up?  He returns with an Alien, a Galen, named Castiel and Cas is making some weird accusations about space, fate, and souls.<br/>---<br/>Based on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Nano-Comes-Clifford-Falls-Stories/dp/1930846509/ref=la_B000AQ4SK2_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1435276859&sr=1-6">Nancy Kress' short story First Flight</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Exiled

**Author's Note:**

> UNBETA'D. UNEDIT'D. UNPROOF'D. Mistakes are mine, characters and premise are not.

“What do you mean ‘Issuing 2 demerits’? Demerits for what?” Dean strode out of his small bathroom. He glanced down at his uniform to see if it was out of order in anyway. It wasn’t. He looked back up and glared at the repo. The machine hovered in the air at eye level; it’s horizontal line of lights blinking rapidly.  
  
“Clothes must be folded and returned to the wearer’s locker after they emerge from the LaundroBOT. One demerit in awarded for every 5 minutes that the task remains unfinished. The clothes have been clean for 10 minutes and 12 seconds.” The repo hovered in unhelpfully between Dean and his clothes.  
  
Dean ducked under it. “Really? I was in the bathroom. How was I supposed to put them away while I was in the bathroom?”  
  
The repo turned. “10 minutes 32 seconds.”  
  
“I’m folding; I’m folding!” Dean rushed to put the clothes in the correct order. He had a rather large pile because he hadn’t felt the need to do laundry hit until he was on his last uniform. That was the issue with instantaneous washing. Back home they had an older model, it took longer to clean; but, it folded the clothes before spitting them out. Dean smiled fondly at the thought of Sam refolding them because he didn’t like the default settings and they couldn’t change it since they got it second-hand and didn’t get the manual.  
  
A knock sounded on Dean’s door before Charlie and Garth walked in. Charlie waved a paper in the air. “We got on the list. We’re going out for a mission.” She brought it down to look at more thoroughly. “Well, the mission is setting out decoys for a training exercise but still.”  
  
Garth moved across the room and began to fold clothes. He must have understood why Dean was folding frantically.  
  
Speaking over his shoulder, Dean messed up one of the shirts he was folding. He and the repos spoke at the same time. Dean: “But it’s better than being cooped up in the station.” Repos: “Shirts must be folded with the Naval Insignia facing upward.”  
  
Dean quickly refolded the shirt and placed it in the proper spot in his locker. “Done.”  
  
The repos looked at the locker and scanned it. “One final demerit will be awarded. Total time: 15 minutes 7 seconds.”  
  
“You’re giving me a demerit over 7 seconds.”  
  
Garth chimed in, “8 actually.”  
  
Charlie thrusted the mission log at Dean. “We’re not on the same shift though. You’re on the late shift tonight and we’re on the early shift tomorrow.”  
  
Taking the orders from her, Dean glanced over it. “That sucks. First time out and we’re not going out together. What time is the late shift?” He read the late shift order. “1900 tonight.”  
  
He turned on his heel and promptly struck his toe into the metal post of his bed. “Argh.” He bent in a cringe. “This is not my day.”  
  
Charlie’s repos, a green version of Dean’s and Garth’s which was identical both chimed in with Dean’s. “A demerit will be awarded if scuff on Dean Winchester’s shoes is not remedied in 3 minutes 45 seconds.”  
  
Shaking his head, Dean reached into his locker for his instant shoe shine. He quickly uncapped it and applied it to his shoe. He looked back to the repos. “Happy?”  
  
The repos replied in chorus. “Demerit number 38 dissolved.”  
  
“38?” Charlie’s eyes were wide and her mouth hung open. “What do you even do to get that many demerits?”  
  
Shrugging, Dean replaced his shoe shine and closed the locker. “Lots of little stuff. Tuck in the sheets before 0900 or shower by 0830 or boots improperly laced.”  
  
Garth nodded. “That’s no good.”  
  
Huffing a quick laugh, Dean shot his a smirk. “Eh, it can’t be that bad. Everybody’s got a few demerits.”  
  
“Not me. I don’t have any.” Charlie chimed in, crossing her arms across her chest and sticking her chin in the air. “Well, if you want to avoid another one, you’d better get to dinner.”  
  
Dean glanced at his watch. It was only 5:15. “But, dinner shift is at-”  
  
Cutting him off, Garth corrected him. “1900 mission means early dinner shift then a tech check.”  
  
He was right, of course. Dean huffed. He’d never get used to all these rules and things. Back at ground camp, they regulations were different. How did that make any sense? Dean hurried down the hallway, making sure not to run because that would inevitably lead to another demerit. His repos followed close whirring just behind his ear.  
  
Charlie called out after him. “60 is the limit for flight rostering. At least you can’t get to 60 before 1900, right?”  
  
Crossing his fingers behind his back, Dean hoped she was right.  
  
\---  
  
He had 40 demerits when he lined up with the other pilots for the 1900 mission. One because he opened the latch from the left side of his vehicle even though he was right-handed and the other was for tripping on someone else’s cord. Their cord was in the wrong place so Dean wasn’t sure why he got that demerit; but, the repos assured him it was because he touched another cadet’s equipment. Dean did his best to contain his snicker and managed to hide it from the repos.  
  
“Alright, idjits, you’re going out to place decoy targets for the big boys to play with. You go in, you place them, you get out, ya hear?” Major Singer’s gruff voice bounced off the walls of the hangar in a way that had Dean’s hair on end.  
  
Major Singer called down the roster and admitted each man to their craft one at a time. Dean was last in the row and subsequently last to be waved up and instructed out the hangar doors. Dean was a little antsy; but, he tried to remain calm so he wouldn’t get another demerit.  
  
He piloted the craft to the space gate and was flashed through by a succession of multicolored lights. He directed the craft in and was transported to the mission stop. He looked around at the new space. “Computer where are we?”  
  
“We are at destination 3126-693-5; the outermost planetary orbit of star K-4.”  
  
That meant very little to Dean. It meant he was neat the fringe though. When something was a dash 5 it meant that it was at the very edge of explored space. Dean looked around again, letting it sink in that he was one of the few people who had seen this part of space.  
  
“Failure to begin mission upon arrival; 3 demerits awarded.”  
  
“I was about to. I was surveying the surroundings.” Dean gestured to the shield display.  
  
The repos’ lights flickered before turning off completely. It made a dying sound, “Connection losssssssszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”  
  
The cockpit was suddenly cold. Dean could see his breath in the air. A presence seemed to settle in the cabin. It felt weird; it was a home feeling but it wasn’t natural. One the one hand, Dean felt at home and on the other he knew he shouldn’t and it wasn’t a good mixture. “Hello?”  
  
The scanners didn’t show anything and Dean felt a little bit overwhelmed with the home feeling. Something seemed to whisper to him, “Hello, Dean.” There was a breath against Dean’s ear and cheek. He jerked toward it; but nothing was there.  
  
He jammed a button on the console. “Pilot log. Time is 1920. Cabin became suddenly cold. Repos shut off suddenly. The scanners and diagnostics display show no indication of-”  
  
Dean’s recording was interrupted by the reboot of his repos and the cabin heat returning full force. His scanners ‘ping’ed a ship within 6 spaceknots. Dean stared at the screen. The sonar had a 50 spaceknot radius; why would have missed it until now? Dean stared at the screen.  
  
A tapping sound began inside his helmet. He could feel it against his helmet. He froze.  
  
“Cadet Winchester, 5 demerits for stopping mid mission.”  
  
“Shhh.” tap tap tap tap tap tap  
  
Silence sounded loud before, tap tap … tap tap … tap tap … tap tap …  
  
Dean figured the malfunction must have been fixing itself since the tapping began to cease.  
  
“Another 5 demerits will be awarded if you do not continue the mission. Are you disobeying orders?”  
  
He wanted to strangle the repos. “One moment.”  
  
“Five demerits awarded.”  
  
tap tap … tap tap………  
  
Since the tapping had finally ceased, Dean turned to his scanner and stared at the ping. He released another decoy so he wouldn’t get another 5 demerits. Suddenly the tapping was back though. tap … tap tap … tap tap tap … tap tap tap tap tap … tap tap tap tap tap tap tap …  
  
Dean started to worry. Malfunctions don’t occur in prime numbers. He pressed the comm. Button. “Sending malfunction message.”  
  
“Please state the nature of the malfunction.” It was the same voice as his repos; but, from his ship.  
  
“I am experiencing a tapping sensation in the cockpit.” The tapping continued in increasing prime numbers.  
  
“The term ‘tapping sensation’ is not one of the approved malfunction terms. Please replace the term ‘tapping sensation’.”  
  
Dean grumbled and moved to the next decoy spot. “It was a tapping sensation. What else do I call it?”  
  
“Possible replacements from the malfunction vocabulary include: tapping noise, tapping (mechanical), ringing, jerky movements-”  
  
“Tapping noise then. Tapping noise.” He pressed the decoy release button. He had two more left to take the position.  
  
“Please repeat your replacement for ‘tapping sensation’.”  
  
Dean growled. “Tapping noise.”  
  
“Your malfunction report is being sent now. Sent. Received.”  
  
Waiting a beat for a response, Dean stared at the speaker to his right. No response came. He sighed and moved to the next drop off. It was within 3 spaceknots of the other craft.  
  
TAP … TAP TAP TAP TAP … TAP TAP … TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP … TAP … TAP  
  
That was the code for help. Dean’s spine went rigid as he released the second to last decoy. He looked at the screen. He tapped the ‘ping’ing ship to see if it were giving off any signal. It was giving off a faint distress beacon.  
  
Dean jammed the comm button with his thumb. “Requesting open two-way communication.”  
  
“That is only to be used in emergencies.” The repos hummed behind Dean’s head. “This is not an emergency.”  
  
“Yes it is, open two-way line.”  
  
“3 demerits awarded.” The repos voice ground against the ship’s identical one. “Opening two-way communication.”  
  
Dean stared at the ship on his sonar scanner. He decided to head toward the last decoy drop off position; but, he when slowly. He didn’t want to finish his mission then get demerits for not heading back.  
  
The speaker went static for a moment before a voice came through. “Cadet Winchester, what is your issue?”  
  
Dean pushed the toggled forward slightly. “I have pinged another ship.”  
  
A beat of silence. “You are in deserted space; that is why it has been chosen for the training exercise.”  
  
Dean blinked at the speaker. He looked at the scanner and unmated it from the toggle. The ping rang throughout the cockpit. Dean swallowed. “Sir, I think there must be a mistake. I have uncovered a ship sending out a distress signal.”  
  
Another longer beat of silence. “Cadet Winchester, abort mission. Return to the hangar immediately. I will open the ring transporter to your location.”  
  
The ping sounded, again, then there was silence. No pinging. No tapping. Nothing.  
  
“50 demerits for resisting orders.”  
  
Dean had to physically restrain himself from turning around and breaking the damn repos in half. “I’m thinking!” Dean twiddled with the joystick. He looked at the scanner. Time ticked by but it was better than tapping by. He huffed, closed his eyes, tried to think of the best plan of action.  
  
Breathe in.  
  
Breathe out.  
  
“50 demerits for resisting orders.”  
  
“My GOD!!! The fuck it your problem?!?” Dean grabbed the toggled and steered himself toward the open light tunnel. He lined himself up and gunned it.  
  
“10 demerits for fowl language.”  
  
\---  
  
“166 demerits?” You know that 100 is enough to get you discharged. Like, 150 is jail time. What are you going to do?” Charlie stood in Dean’s cabin. He was on house arrest until his hearing the next morning. He had figured he’d get more demerits for calling Garth and Charlie; but, the repos stayed silent, for the first time ever. “I know what you should do.”  
  
Dean lifted his head from his hands. He looked at Charlie expectantly, his eyes defeated but his mouth determined. “Yeah, okay, what?”  
  
She help her hands out like it was obvious. “Tell them that you messed up. It was your first time out there; you were on edge. You weren’t seeing things correctly.”  
  
Shaking his head, Dean shifted this feet out wider. “No. I can’t lie. I know what I felt.”  
  
“Felt?” Garth had been silent most of the time.  
  
Dean nodded then stopped short. “It sounds crazy but I felt it. A presence there. In the cockpit.”  
  
Shifting where he was leaning against the wall, Garth’s eyebrows pulled together. Dean briefly wondered by Garth was allowed to lean against the wall in his dress uniform when Dean would have been awarded demerit after demerit. Sneaking a glance to his repos, Dean narrowed his eyes in silence accusation. “You can’t say felt. Just deny that it happened.”  
  
“I can’t do that.” He went to scuff his foot on the tile but stopped short because he could already see his repos winding up for the demerits it would cause.  
  
Charlie sighed. “You want to stay in the Navy, right?”  
  
Nodding, Dean tore his gaze away from his repos. “I’ve wanted to be in the Navy since before I could properly talk.” Dean could remember when he saw the spacecrafts on the back of his cereal box; the way he felt when he looked out at space, like his home wasn’t on Terra but elsewhere. They used to tell him that his mother had turned into a star; perhaps he wanted to follow her.  
  
Dean knew that it wasn’t real. Dead people don’t actually become stars; but, he was in the Navy anyway, anything to get away from his Dad. As soon as Sam went off to college, Dean had went into the Navy to help pay for the fancy ass school. Sam got the education scholarship but not for room and board; but, Dean was taking care of that.  
  
But, not for long.  
  
Charlie and Garth had to go to the hangar to do a final check over their equipment. Garth spoke over his shoulder to Dean before completely exiting the cabin. “Tell them it didn’t happen.”  
  
Sighing, Dean turned to his repos. He wasn’t sure that he could.  
  
\---  
  
Dean sat in a barely padded, low arm-rested chair before a line of people in fancy white dress uniforms looking down at forms or up at him with the same blank expressions tucked into the table like the last supper. Dean felt like it was just as important.  
  
“Cadet Winchester, could you please explain what happened.” The man at the center of the table raised his eyebrows. Dean knew him as one of Major Singer’s friends.  
  
“Yes sir.” Dean retold the story. He was careful to keep everything in the right order and in the right amounts. He didn’t want to be caught in a lie or have to go back on his own story. He wanted to get it out and stick by it.  
  
When he had finished, he was panting a little and he was gripping the chair arms white-knuckled. Most of the long table was looking up at him instead of down at their packets. The man at the center cleared his throat. “As you know, Cadet Winchester, over 100 merits would put a bad cadet out of the service.” He took what could only be described as a dramatic pause. “You are an exceptional cadet, though, so we are willing to overlook your latest mission. You had top scores in flight training and top of your class at ground camp.”  
  
Suddenly able to breathe again, Dean smiled like an idiot. He quickly schooled his face. His repos had begun to whir animatedly next to his ear. The man stood and the rest of the company followed. Dean scrambled a little to stand as well; his knees felt weak from the alleviated pressure.  
  
The man tapped his papers on the table, straightening them. “I have one last question though.”  
  
Swallowing, Dean nodded. He felt his hands clam back up.  
  
“Is there any way that you could have been mistake out there? Perhaps you were excited from your first mission in an actual craft. Is there any way that what you saw did not, in fact, happen?”  
  
It had been too good to be true. Dean stared straight ahead, the space between the man’s ear and eye. He swallowed. He blinked. He couldn’t back down on his word; but, he also needed this job to keep Sammy where he needed to be. He needed to make this work. He needed to…  
  
He didn’t want to go back. He could get a job, yeah. He could get a house, yeah. He could hustle, yeah. But, he didn’t want to have to deal with his father. His father would be mad about him getting kicked out. His father would be mad about the loss of income. His father wouldn’t want to see him.  
  
But Sammy wouldn’t take the money if he knew that Dean lied to get it.  
  
The man at the center of the table raised his eyebrows further, “Cadet?”  
  
Dean swallowed. If there was one thing he hated more than his father’s rejection, it was Sam’s disappointment. “Sir. I saw what I saw. I felt what I felt. I can’t stand here and lie to you that I didn’t see or hear to feel it.” Dean took a step away from his chair. He saluted. “It’s been a pleasure serving with you.”  
  
He made a right-face to leave but was stopped by a raised hand. He made a left face back to the table of men. The same man spoke again, “You haven’t been dismissed, Cadet.” He nodded to a man at the very end of the table.  
  
That man nodded back. He turned to those sitting at the table. “Cadet Dean Winchester will continue to service the Naval Administration and return to his place in the Naval Corps. Dismissed.”  
  
Honestly, at this point, Dean was confused.  
  
Major Singer’s friend, the guy that had done the most talking strode over. “You did great, kid.” He clapped him on the back. “You passed that damn test. I was worried for a moment there when you when all glassy-eyed and shit.”  
  
Knitting his eyebrows together, Dean began to shake his head. “I still don’t understand, sir.”  
  
“Have a seat.”  
  
Dean did.  
  
The lieutenant did the same; but his chair was on wheels. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Lieutenant Rufus Turner.” He stuck out his hand for a firm shake. “Good kid, man.”  
  
Taking the compliment as well as he could, Dean gave a short courteous nod before asking, “You said I passed the test, sir?”  
  
Lieutenant Turner nodded. “Yeah, higher ups wanted to get rid of you since you had so many demerits. They devised a test. We had the techs make rig your craft. The tapping, the sonar, the power outage; all fabricated by us.”  
  
“But why?” Dean wasn’t sure if he was angry or shocked, possibly both.  
  
Shifting in his chair, the lieutenant sighed. “We’re at war Cadet Winchester. We need men with gut feelings. We need men that follow orders; but still think for themselves.” He leaned forward and whispered, “Between you and me, we need a few trouble-makers.”  
  
Dean smirked. “I can definitely do that.”  
  
The lieutenant nodded in assent. “Our enemy is not human, cadet. Our enemy is empathic. They love but once. They understand little about us and we understand little about them. I am not even sure if they are at war or if only we are. Our humanness confuses communication for hostility at times.”  
  
The easy friendliness ebbed away and all that was left was a salute and a farewell. Dean picked up his suit and helmet, which had been confiscated, on his way out. He replaced them in his locker in his cabin and blew out a puff of air.  
  
He found himself looking up at the sky, well, out at the sky, there is no true up in space. He found himself staring at the stars through is porthole in his room. He felt a sudden sense of home, again. It was still weird because Dean knew he wasn’t home; but, he was closer than before. He wondered if it was perhaps that he found his mother again. Maybe she was in the stars; maybe she was in the fringe.  
  
Dean shook himself. His mother was gone.  
  
“You are wrong. You’re mother is not gone.” Startled, Dean spun around. In the center of his cabin, a light was moving. It looked like some sort of energy; it morphed and transformed into a humanoid shape. It smiled. “You’re mother is still with us, in the stars.”  
  
“What the fu-?” Dean stepped forward. He felt a pull toward this thing, like he knew it. “What are you?”  
  
The creature began to manifest; becoming skin and flesh. “I am Castiel, son of Chuck.”  
  
“Chuck?” Dean was skeptical.  
  
The being’s face pulled downward into a serious frown. “Yes, is there a problem?”  
  
Dean shook his head. “No, of course not.”  
  
“I am a Galen, from Gala.” The being swept forward and pressed a palm to Dean’s face. “Your mother was from Gala. When she returned in her post-form, she told me about the beauty of humans. I’ve been watching, observing, researching.”  
  
Swallowing, Dean took a step away from the Galen but his knees hit the edge of his low bunk and he knocked himself into a sitting position.  
  
The Galen reached forward and touched two newly formed fingers to Dean’s head. Like a montage, images and moments began to play in Dean’s head. He was approaching the last drop off and had been denied two-way comm. He slowly closed in on the ‘ping’ing ship. He boarded it. He found a hostile creature. It mauled him. He was killed. He floated around for a bit until he came across another thing floating around. It put him back together and promised him answers. He was returned to the moment that he was denied two-way comm. He contacted instead.  
  
The Galen, Castiel, retracted his fingers and watched Dean.  
  
Dean took in long breaths. “I died. How did I forget that I died?” He leaned back on braced arms. “Wow.”  
  
Castiel stood still and nodded.  
  
“Wait, how come it’s like no time has changed?” Dean narrowed his eyes.  
  
Tilting his head to the side minutely, Castiel’s dark – dark as the space around a black hole, darker than dark, eyebrows came together. “As you have been reminded, I brought you back to the point in time that you were denied two-way comm.”  
  
Dean nodded. “And, you spoke to my mother.”  
  
Castiel nodded his assent.  
  
“How can that be? She’s dead.” Dean’s mouth was dry.  
  
One of Castiel’s fingers rose to Dean’s cheekbone. Dean winched expecting another montage; but, instead was greeted by a simple, incredibly-warm touch. “My people are rather, recyclable, as you would say.” Castiel took a seat next to Dean.  
  
On the one hand, Dean felt completely relaxed and at home; but, the part of him that was John Winchester’s son was on edge, borderline paranoid. He was completely comfortable with this being; and, that put him on-edge.  
  
Castiel stared out the port hole. “Galens don’t really die. We live on in a new body or just as energy. We live like energy until we have a reason to manifest. Some of us become destroyed by the universe and are split into pieces that must be gathered back together into one whole.”  
  
There was silence.  
  
“Is that what happened to my mother?” Dean hunched forward and wrung his hands, not looking at Castiel.  
  
Shaking his head, Castiel took one of Dean’s hands. “No, she’s stringing together someone else’s pieces, her soulmate.”  
  
“Soulmate, really?” Dean rose an eyebrow with a skeptical gaze.  
  
Castiel turned and stared at Dean directly in the eye. “How would you have described my form before I became this?” He gestured to himself.  
  
Top of his class meant something, it mean that Dean was pretty damn smart and had some logic buried under the comfortable, homey feeling that was settling into his bones. “You looked like a soul. You, your people, are where we get the term, then?”  
  
“Precisely.” Castiel’s voice was beginning to come in harsher, like immediate or, at least, really fast puberty. His voice was changing; his skin was darkening. It was like he was becoming more permanent. Dean didn’t like that he liked that.  
  
Standing up jerkily and spinning around, Dean took a large breath and tried to shake the comfortable air about him. “Why are you telling me this? Why are you even here?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself a little more than strictly necessary.  
  
Castiel remained on the edge of the bed. He had his hands wrapped in the hem of the plain t-shirt that had materialized with him. They were straining in the fabric; he was trying not to reach out. He tilted his head and donned a confused lilt in his deepened voice. “Do you not feel it?”  
  
Becoming hyper-aware of himself, dean did a mental check over his body. Everything felt to be in order. His head was connected to his neck which was connected to his body which was connected to his arms and legs. He moved his tongue in his mouth to ensure that it worked properly, wiggled his fingers a bit. He refocused on Castiel.  
  
There was a glimmer of amusement in Castiel’s eyes; but, Dean second-guessed it immediately because nothing else indicated mirth. Castiel was just as stoic as before; but, when Dean looked him in the eyes he couldn’t shake the idea that Castiel was amused. “What?”  
  
Castiel stood. He moved so that he was standing with one foot between Dean’s and the other shoulder width away. He leaned forward to speak in Dean’s ear. “Galens give birth to Galens, Dean.”  
  
A shiver ran up Dean’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was a good shiver or a bad shiver; but, he wasn’t uncomfortable so he’d probably go with good shiver. Castiel was shorter than Dean. He was thinner at the shoulders than Dean but just as muscled. Dean wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him.  
  
Leaning away, Castiel cocked his head a bit. “Now, where will I be sleeping?”


End file.
